


As In the Days that Were

by foxy_mulder



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Domestic Violence, F/F, Gwen-centric, Insecurity, Mutual Pining, Past Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining, Queen Gwen (Merlin), Queen Morgana (Merlin), Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29683872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxy_mulder/pseuds/foxy_mulder
Summary: Morgana stops abruptly, eyes going sharp. "You know you don't work under me anymore. Ever again, probably."“I know," she says.Morgana nods, satisfied. Something warm blooms in Gwen, to know that Morgana would put such importance on not taking advantage of her position, even when her feelings were so clearly reciprocated. As if it weren’t obvious that Gwen was in love with her.
Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin)
Kudos: 24





	As In the Days that Were

Gwen collects the draught, along with some tea and honey, and makes her way through the dark, empty halls. Many servants have told her they can’t stand night duties, because at night is when the stone walls feel cold and claustrophobic. 

Naturally, she feels the same way. But she’s a professional. She keeps it to herself, smiles her most natural smile when others ask if she’d mind swapping for their night duties. She 

She carries the tray up the stairs, careful to keep it flat, to keep her skirts lifted just so that she doesn't trip and shatter teacups across the floor. She smiles at Merlin as he approaches, carrying a tray of his own, with much less care. 

"You're dripping," she points out. He looks down and his eyes widen comically as he takes in the trail of soup he has left along the hallway. 

"Arthurs going to kill me," he groans. Gwen makes a noise of sympathy, but is soon unable to hold in her giggles. 

"At least we have time to clean it up before anyone sees." She gestures to the empty hallway. It's late, every servant has been dismissed by now. But Arthur is always keeping Merlin behind late. 

She sets her tray on the ground to help Merlin wipe the soup. He glances at it and frowns. 

"Lady Morgana having trouble sleeping again?" 

"Nightmares. " 

Merlin stands with a wince. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I’m too clumsy for this job," he sighs. “I don't know how you do this, I’m always spilling things and getting hit in the head with goblets, and… I’m not cut out for city life, it’s all such a constant rush, and I’m terrible-” 

“Hey, it’s alright. You need a bit more practice, that’s all.” The poor thing has only been here a few weeks and he’s already run ragged. Arthurs was a bully in giving him so many chores; it’s rare that a new hire would be run around this way before they knew the ropes. Arthur can be so thoughtless. Not that Gwen would say so aloud, especially not to Merlin, who really, really gets on with Arthur, as much as they fight. 

And at least with Arthur, Merlin is safe from the fates so many servants meet, at this castle. No one would dare touch the prince's personal manservant, who he’s quickly become possessive over. She places her smile politely on to cover the surge of jealousy at their bond. She and Morgana are close, but that had taken much time and effort. Even now, Gwen knows their bond isn’t entirely reciprocal. 

“You're right. I’ll get used to it,” he sighs. “Thanks, Gwen.” 

Gwen nods and stands, smoothing her skirts. Not a wrinkle to be seen. Merlin, meanwhile, looks like a wreck, and she winces in sympathy as she turns to stride down the hall, so she will arrive before the tea cools. Gwen does not drop her tray. She knows no one is watching, no one is there, but her polite smile remains fixed to her face. 

It is only when she reaches Lady Morgana's room that she can relax. 

"My Lady," she says with a bow, producing the draught. 

"How many times must I tell you to call me Morgana when we're alone," Lady Morgana groans, rolling over to look up from the bed. 

"Only a million, my Lady," Gwen smiles big at Morgana's irritated expression, and sets the tray aside to dive onto the bed. Morgana already has several candles lit, and a book of poetry she has copied from the library. 

“You could… stay awhile,” she says weakly. “I mean, of course you’re free to go, it’s late and I don’t want to keep you-” 

“No, I can- I would- that would be fine,” she stammers, hoping her excitement isn’t too obvious. It’s a little humiliating, the way she gets around Lady Morgana. She’s worked for her for years and still hasn’t gotten used to it. Not that it affects her work! She is the picture of professionalism! It’s just that… it’s hard not to get lost in thoughts of a certain kind, when the two of them are alone together. She’s gained so much fodder for thought, over her time working here. She knows many things about Lady Morgana. 

For one, she has cold fingers no matter the time of year. She likes her finery, and she cares about people. She may have a temper to rival Arthur's and a sharp tongue, but she is _good_ more than anything. Gwen knows her well. Perhaps a bit too well; she knows how Lady Morgana takes her tea and how at night Lady Morgana's nightdress falls to show that her breasts are a bit lopsided and her nipples a soft pink and- 

But that's just part of being a good maidservant. Gwen is a professional at what she does, so she knows her lady; it's what any good maidservant would do. Thinking about her and knowing what she wants. A good maidservant knows how to be discreet, to speak in a sort of… secret language, of averted eyes, of blanks between words. Subtlety, professionalism, and politeness above all. She goes places in the castle that no one else goes, she sees things others do not see. 

(If a good maidservant sees a Lady's eyes flash gold, she keeps it to herself.) 

“Have you seen Arthur today? I thought he would join us for our picnic, like last time.” 

“Not today. I believe he was busy training the knights.” 

He’s been kinder lately. He joins Lady Morgana and Gwen and Merlin on their picnics, picking flowers and putting them in everyones hair. She blames it on Merlin, and she’s sure Lady Morgana would agree. 

“Well.” Lady Morgana pauses as if she wants to say more. “I was going to read, you’re welcome to join me, the tea is wonderful.” 

She sits and takes a cup. Lady Morgana is right, it is delicious. 

\- 

"Its so stupid and unfair," she hisses. Gwen nods sympathetically as Morgana rants about the latest nonsense Uther has committed. "I can't believe this." 

Gwen sits at the edge of the bed, and casually, she takes down her hair and shakes it over her shoulders. She undoes the buttons on her overcoat and sets it aside on the floor. No one will see, it's late. It's Morgana. She turns and makes herself comfortable on the bed, taking a honey cake from the tray. 

Gwen looks up, and Morgana is looking at her with the queerest look on her face. 

"What is it? Something on my face?" She swipes at her lip for crumbs. 

"No," Morgana says finally, a soft smile overtaking her. "It's nothing." 

Morgana throws herself on the bed and Gwen yelps as she bounces a foot into the air, scrambling to avoid falling off the bed entirely. She fails, and tumbles off the side. Morgana laughs and she sits up, making a face she hopes accurately expresses betrayal at being so rudely displaced. 

“C’mon,” Morgana says, holding out a hand to help her back up. She pulls a little too hard and they’re pressed flush, chest to chest. She can feel Morgana's heartbeat through her thin chemise, and she hopes Morgana can't feel heart beating fast. Morgana leans back too soon and the two of them rearrange to sit beside each other. Still touching. 

“Poem?” Gwen says hopefully. 

Morgana nods and gets the little book to set it between them. She reads, and her voice vibrates through Gwen, rumbling softly. She blinks heavy eyelids. 

“Miri it is while sumer i-last With foulës song; Oc now neghëth windës blast And weder strong.” 

Gwen hesitates, and slowly- so slowly- brings her head to rest on Morgana's shoulder. Morgana doesn’t pause, reading her poem in her lilting voice that goes just slightly higher. 

“Ei, ei, what this night is long, And Ich with wel michel wrong Swee and murne and fast.” 

She turns to explain, as she often does. "That one is my favorite.it's about time passing by.” 

“About the spring and winter, right?” 

She nods and says more, but Gwen can’t exactly focus now, as the scent of Morgana's neck and the rumbling of her voice lull her into a stupor. Merlin has called her lovestruck, when the two of them discuss such things, but she does not feel struck. She feels… gentled, like a flower nourished by soft moonlight. Even knowing her feelings go unreturned, she is content, just being here at her side. Being the one Morgana is gentle with, like this, when she is so cruel and sharp with those who make her an enemy. Gwen rests her eyes. 

“Gwen?” she says quietly, and Gwen startles. “Shh, I didn’t mean to startle you. Just… you were falling asleep.” 

She rubs her eyes, leaning back, and Morgana releases her from her arms. “I had better go,” she yawns. “It’s late.” 

“Or you could-” she cuts herself off, eyes downcast. “Of course. Go rest. Goodnight, Gwen.” 

Sensing that there was more, she waits, but it is not forthcoming. So, Gwen goes to the antechamber and sleeps. 

\- 

She is back in less than an hour as Morgana screams in her sleep. Sometimes she screams the same things night after night, sometimes it’s something entirely new. Tonight her mouth hangs open and she is spitting words so quickly that Gwen can hardly decipher them. 

“Mom in the money stone and strit; On his botforke his burthen he bereth. It is muche wonder that he na doun slyt; For doute leste he valle he suddreth ant shereth. When the first freseth mujhe chale he byd-” 

She rolls over and grabs Gwen's sleeve, slurring words. 

"The sequel of to-day unsolders all The goodliest fellowship of famous knights Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep They sleep—the men I loved." 

"Morgana," she shakes her gently. "Morgana, I don't understand, wake up. You need to wake up now, love." 

"I think that we Shall never more, at any future time, Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, Walking about the gardens and the halls Of Camelot, as in the days that were." 

Gwen shakes her hard, and when it does nothing she crawls onto the bed to take her face in her hands. Morgana wakes with a cry, eyes darting around fearfully before settling on Gwen's face in recognition.. 

"You did it again. The... poetry.” It’s rare, but once in a while she does this. Gwen has tried writing them down, searching for the sources, but she has never been able to find the source of these strange poems. Perhaps they are from the future, or from within Morgana's own head. She doesn’t know, and she doesn't dare bring it to the Kings attention. 

Morgana is so wordy in the daytime. Now, her face is pale and ghostly, nearly luminous in the light of the moon, and she is silent. She leans over the side of the bed and Gwen hardly has time to grab up the chamberpot before she is vomiting. Gwen holds her hair up, and hates herself for the way she blushes at the contact. _She’s sick for god's sake, stop thinking about her hair against your hand,_ she berates herself silently. 

Morgana makes the smallest whimper and Gwen rubs her back in gentle circles. She doesn’t ever know quite what to do in these situations, and Morgana suffers so much. Morgana murmurs something unintelligible. 

“What was that?” 

“Stay with me,” she says, and her voice is so weak that professionalism and boundaries fall to the back of Gwen's mind. 

“Of course, my Lady.” 

“Sleep with me.” 

Gwens eyes widen, and Morgana stills, evidently realizing what she’s said in her state of disorder. She opens her mouth to backtrack. 

“I- I don’t mean to suggest- That is, it would be improper to even ask you to sleep in here, much less- You had better go back to your room,” she stutters. 

“My Lady-” she stops. “Morgana. If it pleases you, I will stay here.” 

“I do not want you to feel as if you are required to on my account. I have braved these nights alone before and can continue to do so.” 

”As a servant I am aware this is above my duties,” she says, and pretends she doesn't see how Morganas shoulders slump, “but as a friend, I cannot abide that. I will remain here.” 

Gwen shucks her over shirt and her outer skirt, because Morgana won't mind the immodesty and she wants to be comfortable if she's staying the night. 

“What is this?,” Morgana mutters, voice going icy like she already knows what it is. 

Gwen had forgotten about that. The bruises that have littered her body since she was a child. One for every suffering citizen of Camelot. 

“Nothing.” 

“Gwen, just tell me and I’ll sort it. Whoever did this will pay, I assure you.” 

If she tells the truth, Morgana will only feel all the worse, with her need to fix everything, the passion for goodness that drives her to care for even the lowest members of the kingdom. She cannot do anything about this, unless she plans to overthrow Uther himself. When Gwen looks at the heaviness of devotion in her eyes, she wonders if Morgana actually might try for her. It would be too dangerous. Gwen doesn’t want to cause trouble. 

She shrugs and the two of them go to sleep in silence. 

\- 

"Magic." Uther says, turning his gaze on Morgana, and Gwen's heart beats out of her chest as Morgana's eyes glow gold-

Gwen and Morgana lock eyes. Gwens stomach drops and she quietly leaves the room. The hall is empty. She sprints for Morgana's chambers to pack her a bag. 

\- 

The guards search and do not find her. Gwen knows she will return to say goodbye. It is a weakness of hers. So she waits in the window of Morgana's chambers. 

A small knock sounds at the window and she trips over herself to open it. Morgana looks gravely at her, wind tousled hair devastating in the fading light. 

Gwen already knows she’s going to ask her to come with her. Gwen already knows what she’s going to say. She closes her eyes against the tears that threaten to leak out, and lets Morgana stand there. She can feel her presence, even when they do not touch. Two hearts beat as one in the stillness of the room. 

Gwen can’t do this. She shoves the bag at her, not looking. IF she doesn’t look, she can pretend this isn’t happening. 

“Gwen.” She flinches at the name, and Morgana's fingers take her chin in hand, turning her face. “Come, it’s not… it’s not the end of the world.” 

“You’re going away.” It’s the end of her world, the world the two of them had made together. Whatever life she had envisioned for herself involved taking care of Morgana, reading the poetry together even though half the time she wasn’t really listening, and going to festivals in springtime, and pretending Camelot wasn’t a rotting corpse. Someone like Morgana couldn’t have lived here forever, the proof is etched across Gwen's body. Still, she feels it’s her fault. She didn’t even try to stand up to Uther, not even when he sent guards after his favorite. 

“I’m not gone just yet,” Morgana says. “We have a little while.” 

Gwen knows they do. She can feel that the guards are searching the edges of Camelot now, having already scored within the castle walls. They will not check in this room again for hours yet. 

She can taste Morgana's breath, they are so close. She had always thought they would have more time. Her eyes flicker to Morgana's lips and Morgana takes note, leaning forward just so. 

Morgana stops abruptly, eyes going sharp. "You know you don't work under me anymore. Ever again, probably." 

“I know," she says. 

Morgana nods, satisfied. Something warm blooms in Gwen, to know that Morgana would put such importance on not taking advantage of her position, even when her feelings were so clearly reciprocated. As if it weren’t obvious that Gwen was in love with her. 

For a long moment they look at one another, and then Gwen can stand it no longer and brings her lips to Morganas. Morgana makes a high noise and brings them to sit on the bed. 

Gwen takes Morgana's hand gently in her smaller one, the pale fingers glowing in the moonlight as if her skin possessed magic of its own. Gwen guides it to rest on her breast, left of her heart. Her hand is still so cold. She leans up, panting. 

"Your hands are freezing." 

Gwen takes the cold fingers and holds them, uses them to unbutton her dress and let her breasts spill out, the small, soft mounds quivering at the movement. Gwen releases Morgana's hands. 

Morgana cups Gwen's breasts and she hisses at the cold, nipples perking at the contact. She rubs circles over the sensitive nubs and Gwen whines, pressing into the touch. 

“I want to see you too,” she says, working Morgana's clasps open. Morgana swats her hands away and tears the dress. 

”Morgana!” 

“I won’t be needing fineries where I’m going.” her soft belly and her breasts sit on display. Gwen stares shamelessly. 

"They're lopsided," laughs Morgana, on the edge of self-consciousness. Gwen already knows that, she’s always thought it was endearing. Would it be weird of her to say so? Or flattering? 

Probably weird. Gwen traces the moles on her sides, marveling at the way she leans into the touch. 

"I like them," she blurts, and the room seems to grow ten degrees warmer. Morgana slips a hand between Gwen's thighs and she squeaks as icy fingers cup her through her smallclothes. 

"I should hope so," she says, and then softly, "I had always dearly hoped." 

Gwen's heart is rabbiting from her chest so hard she's certain Morgana can hear it. Morgana's other hand joins the first beneath Gwen's skirts and slips her underthings down her thighs. 

The guards aren’t coming back anytime soon. They make good use of their time. 

\- 

“I could take you with me,” Morgana says against her neck, sweaty with afterglow. Gwen tenses. 

“I cannot leave Camelot.” 

“Come, we could kill Uther and be together freely.” 

“You always talk of killing,” she snaps. “I… I don’t think I have it in me, not like you. And it scares me.” 

The hurt is plain on Morgana's face. “You fear me?” 

She hears the silent question. _You think me violent? You think me as bad as Uther?_

“No!” She brings a hand to her forehead, hating the way she cannot articulate. If only Morgana could understand the words between words, if she didn’t need it spelled out in ways Gwen cannot. “I… I cannot come with you. I do love you, but I won’t.” 

She doesn’t know how to leave. She doesn’t want to make waves, she’s never disobeyed and she doesn’t even know _how_ and this place, terrible as it can be, is her home. The life Morgana is offering is so far beyond anything she’s imagined, anything she’s ever known, and… 

She’s scared. It must be plain on her face, because Morgana's face goes cold and stiff. Gwen closes her eyes to stave off the misery and humiliation, because she’s a coward. Following orders all day and the one time someone offers her a choice, she makes the wrong one. 

When she opens her eyes, Morgana is gone, the curtains fluttering in the open window. It serves her right. 

Gwen sighs as she gazes up at the moon. The thrum of the people of Camelot echoes in her chest like a heartbeat. 

Sometimes she wonders if she might be magic too. Somehow she knows she couldn’t leave Camelot, even if she tried. Something must be wrong with her. 

_Will she still feel Morgana's heart when she leaves the kingdom?_

She waits up for hours at the window. She’s traveling by horse; she must be, at the speed she’s going. Gwen feels the very moment she leaves the city's border and into the unknown. And Gwen can feel her no longer. 

\- 

Uther slaps her hard across the face and she stumbles. Gwen bows and shuffles away, foolishly ashamed of herself. It's not as if she could fight back, he's the king. 

_Merlin would,_ her mind supplies. He always questions authority. He's not like Gwen, who cowers and stutters at a raised voice, and tucks her stockings just right and her hair just so. Merlin is a force of his own. 

If he had been hit he would have stood with messy hair and he would have given Uther an earful. He's never seemed to care about things like his life, the way he advocated for little Thomas last week and for Audrey, and broke the rules for everyone in the castle at one point or another. And he would tell Arthur. 

Gwen tells nobody. Gwen isn't like Merlin. She doesn't break the rules, never has. With Morgana gone, there is no one to comment on the bruise under her eye, coaxing her into an explanation. 

Morgana would have screamed at him. She would have run her big gentle hands over Gwens face and it would have felt cold, and she would clutch them on her own to warm them. But Morgana is gone, and she wets a cloth herself. She presses it to her face and shivers. 

\- 

Arthur is in love with her. Or perhaps he only thinks he is. She could love him, she tells herself. He is a great man, and he’s been so kind to her since Morgana took her leave. The two of them chat in the halls about nothing. He cares about his people. If he wants her, who is she to refuse? She couldn’t. So, she must love him. 

That is what she tells herself as they make their way to the bedroom. 

His hands are warm. "Arthur, wait." 

"Come on, Gwen. Don't tell me you're getting cold feet." Something strikes through her at the phrase, remembering chilly hands- 

"No," she says. “I’m not.” 

"No _my liege,_ " he reminds her. He has never had to remind her before, and the thought throws her off. "You sound like Merlin," he laughs. 

She laughs too, because Merlin is always a bit disrespectful. 

He inquires about her bruises, and she says they are a chronic ailment. It’s true, in a way. She has had them for years, a new one for everyone burned. She tries not to think about that while he’s kissing down her neck. 

She does love him, in a way. She loves him. His golden hair and his laugh. But she's not sure she can love him the way he's asking. She doesn't want to be sacked. And friendly as the two of them may be, he is the Prince, and he is not _asking._ The Prince is giving her a command. 

Gwen doesn't break the rules. 

\- 

Morgana comes to her in dreams. She wakes sweating, panting. 

Not in the way Morgana once did, though; it's a different sweat entirely. She rubs her thighs together, trying for some relief, but it only makes her upset. 

Arthur snores on beside her. She thinks of waking him, and decides against it. 

\- 

Something changes, in Arthur, the day his father dies. He speaks with Gwen, but his eyes are far away.even when he's with Merlin it's as if he isn't there at all. Something… curdles, inside him, and he begins closing himself off, spending more time in the study and having military meetings with his advisors. He creates plans, spending the treasury on weapons to fight what he calls a plague of sorcery. He had always feared magic, but now it's as if it's consumed him. 

“You cannot continue spending on this venture, people are starving-” 

"They're trying to take advantage of the system." 

"Like me? Or Merlin? may I remind you half your Knights are commoners?" 

"It's different. I trust them, and they've earned it. These people are-" 

"Like me." 

"I remind you to watch your tongue. And remember your place." 

Her place, as if she is not Arthur's betrothed. As if her input meant nothing when she was a commoner and means nothing now. What is the point, then, of being with her and not some dignitary who could be of use to him? Did he choose her because he knows she is a coward who will stay silent when she disagrees? 

She wishes Merlin were here. He would have a witty retort, his heart wouldn't beat at a million miles a minute when Arthur got that look. She wishes… for a great many things, none of which she ever hopes to receive. 

He sighs. “I am sorry, Gwen. It’s only that this winter has been long, and the threats to Camelot never cease. I am… overwhelmed.” 

"Ei, ei, what this night is long and ich with wel michel wrong," 

"What?" 

"It's nothing. A little song Morgana used to-." 

"Don't speak of her," he says, clipped, and catches himself again. "I am tired. It's this famine. I don't know what's causing it, I know it’s sorcery. I feel it.” 

Gwen holds her tongue. She keeps in touch with her friends who farm in Camelots outskirts, and they say the lack of food is to do with Arthur's recent rulings on land treatment and food storage than anything. But Arthur Is withdrawn, these days. He doesn't listen to members of the town, only to a few select advisors that he trusts, because the frequency of magical attacks has increased. 

Gwens stomach growls incessantly these days, the hunger of many, even as she is fed the food of royalty. She sits on the fainting couch that was brought in specially for her. Between the tightness of the corset and the emptiness inside her, she's lucky the days she can even stand. 

“Arthur, I have faith that you will manage this.” 

Arthur smiles tightly, and for all that they look nothing alike, all Gwen can see is Uther's face looking back at her. 

\- 

She has frozen again, outside she and Arthur's shared chambers. The noises inside are familiar. She can’t stand here, she needs to run, hide, be invisible. 

She steadies herself and cracks the door. 

Shattered plates litter the floor 

Merlin stands against the far wall, tensed as Arthur screams at him. 

"-knew I should have expected this. You are incompetent. 

"Just a plate," Merlin mutters, shoulders hunched to his ears like Arthur is about to hit him. For all Arthur has done, he wouldn't- Everyone loves Merlin, Arthur most of all. 

"You've wasted perfectly good food in the middle of a famine." 

"It would be wasted on you, eating like a pig while the rest of us starve," he snaps. 

"Damn you." 

Arthur grips his throat and tosses him to the floor like it's nothing. Merlin gasps as his face skids on the stone, and he makes no attempt to get up. 

He gets to his knees and starts clearing the glass. 

Gwen shuts the door quietly and stands in the hall,in silent shock, wondering how she could have been so blind. How long Arthur has been abusing his servant. Arthur has been known to throw goblets and things, but it was always sort of playful, she thought. Never anything like this. She has to go in there, to get him away… 

And if she tries to stop it he will hit her too. Coward that she is. She cant even open the door and help because the memory of it burns into her eyelids. 

The door swings open and Merlin strides from the chamber, neckerchief in place and clothes straightened. He looks perfectly fine, except for the scrape across his cheek. 

"'Lo, Gwen," he says cheerily, with a cheeky smile. Gwen sees now, the manic look in his eye, the way his hands shake, and she can't believe that all this time she missed it. He knows the same secret language she does, how to put on the polite smile and cover up and hide. He has known how all along, so skilled that she never even knew. 

"Merlin, what happened?" She says. 

"Slipped on the parts floor," he shrugs, holding up the shards for her to see. "You know I'm clumsy." 

She does know. In fact, she's sure he's told her so a thousand times. 

"Be more careful," she says. 

Her stomach clenches in hunger. Her bruises ache. 

\- 

She hatches a plan that night, in the darkness. A plan she will never carry out. 

Others have tried. Poisons have failed, because good King Arthur's servants test his food before he eats. If his food were tampered with it is his people who would fall dead, only to be replaced by others. If Arthur falls, Gwen is next in line for his throne. But she couldn’t do it. Meek Gwen. Soft Gwen. Gentle Gwen. How many ways are there to say ‘coward?’ 

\- 

Morgana comes to her again, that night. Her face is drawn and resigned, even as she beckons Gwen to snuggle into her side on the bed. 

"I heard you're getting married." 

"I don't want to," she says. "I want to be with you." 

“In this world, I’m sure that’s true,” she sighs, pressing a kiss to Gwen's hair. 

“It’s true,” she says, desperately wanting to dream Morgana to know what she can never tell the real one, because the real Morgana will never speak to her again. “Every day I wish I’d come with you, everything is wrong. ” She’s crying, and she can’t stop. “I miss you. I don’t know how to love anybody else, I don’t-” 

“Shhh,” she shushes her, which only makes Gwen cry harder because that’s how she used to sound when it was just the two of them, “It’s going to be okay. I have a plan. Everything is going to be alright.” 

“Okay,” she says, voice small. She has to do something, anything, she has to get rid of Arthur but she _can’t_ , through everything Morgana has been brave, sacrificing her safety and happiness for the good of the people and their future. And Gwen… Gwen has done nothing for anyone, not even herself. Not herself or her friend or the one she loves, nothing for the people of Camelot starving and the sorcerer's burned. She had prided herself on her obedience, once, and now it is her greatest shame. 

Morgana sighs and opens the poetry book. It is Gwen's turn to read. She clears her throat. 

"On one side lay the ocean, and on one Lay a great water, and the moon was full," she begins. 

\- 

Gwens dress is simply stunning. Deep red with interwoven golden dragons carefully threaded through the velvet. 

Looking in the mirror, she imagines standing at the altar and leaning in to kiss a pale, dimpled cheek and a soft red mouth. She closes her eyes to hide their sudden wetness. In another life, maybe. 

Gwen steel's herself as she is herded out to meet her husband. Gwen floats somewhere above her body, watching herself kiss her husband, smiling brightly. 

"She's crying," a noble comments to Arthur, looking at- no, past Gwen, as if despite her new status she is still nothing at all. He is often ashamed of her, often for things she cannot help, even as she tries desperately to obey. She is never quite successful. Sometimes she thinks that’s the reason he wants her so much. 

"Overwhelmed, I imagine." 

"I mean no offense, my lord, but it's rather unruly of a queen to… behave in this manner on her wedding day. Perhaps you should hide her away for a time and bring her back for the festivities." 

Gwen can't stop, the tears flowing down her cheeks, and she's certain her face is flushed and swollen with the weight of tears. Arthur looks her over and nods. 

"Merlin," he calls. Merlin is over in an instant. "The Queen needs some fresh air." 

Merlin nods stiffly and guides her with the smallest touch to her arm. The two of them make their way outside to sit away from the rest. 

"You okay?," asks Merlin, concerned furrowing his brow. 

She shakes her head. Thank god it is her wedding day, the tears on her cheeks pass as joyful, as overwhelmed at her new life. Thank god Merlin is here among these vicious creatures. 

“Hey,” Merlin knocks her shoulder with his. "C'mon, what is it?" 

"I saw him hit you." It’s not why she’s crying. Or perhaps it is. Everything is muddled together now, a swamp of heaviness in her chest. 

Merlin stiffens. "What?" 

"I should've said something ages ago, i didn't think anything of it because you're clumsy, and I thought you were just _clumsy,_ but-" 

"-I am clumsy, I- 

"I _saw,_ Merlin." 

Merlin is silent for a long moment. "You don't understand. I wouldnt let it happen to you, or anyone else, if I thought he would hurt you I would have said something, I wouldn't have let you marry him." 

"Don't you think I feel the same way?" She snaps. "You always stand up to him, why would you…" 

Gwen would sif back and take it, she's shown that time and again, that she's weak. But Merlin is strong. Everyone looks up to him, Gwen most of all, and she doesn't see how he could do this. 

"You don't understand, I said," he sighs, and sounds old. "I have to protect him. He's going to be better, I have to be patient." Merlin sounds like hes trying to convince himself, as much as her. He turns to her seriously. "He's my best friend" 

"And you're _my_...” _best friend. The only one left to trust, here. Everything she would save if she could just muster the will._ friend." 

"If that's true, you won't bring it up. Please." 

She knows there is more to it, things he isn't saying. Gwen of all people knows the silent language of secrets. How to balance a tray. How to hide a stain in clothing. How to keep a feeling deep inside as it festers into something dangerous. 

Gwen knows, and she nods, eyes burning with tears. 

\- 

He hits her only when she deserves it, or so he says. She tends to believe it, but not for the reason he thinks. She doesn’t deserve it because she fell in front of visitors, too weak to stand. Or because she talked back, told Arthur the grain supply wouldn’t last the winter. 

No, she deserves it because she never once complained. Coward that she is. 

She lies down on her couch, feeling weaker than ever. 

\- 

When she opens her eyes, Morgana is leaning over her, stroking her hair. Morgana jumps back and clears her throat. It is another dream. 

"You're married," Morgana says. "That's nice." 

_Is it?_ She decides not to tell dream Morgana about… everything. She can't waste their time together making Morgana upset. 

She sighs, closing her eyes and melting into the touch. Gwen loves touching Morgana, she was always so responsive and sweet, despite the brave front she put up publically. She fears one day she will forget how she feels, and will no longer be able to conjure her up so vividly in dreams. 

Morgana brushes over her shoulder and a pained gasp escapes her. 

She goes cold in realization. "He didn't…" 

"Im clumsy," she says. 

"No you're not. Not really." 

“No, I’m not,” she echoes. 

Morganas face twists into guilt, and then she shakes it off and goes cold. "I'm worried about you, this is all just a manifestation of missing you, and I'm just worried, that’s all it is." 

"Me too,” she confesses. “I hope you're eating well, wherever you are. and you don't get yourself killed. And I know it's silly because I'm never going to see you again, but I... hope you miss me. And that you forgive me." _the real you._

“Forgive you for what?” 

“Letting you go on your own. I know I’m not… brave, like you.” She chokes on the words. Stupid, because she’s talking to her own subconscious. “You have every right to hate me.” 

“I’m the one who abandoned you there, thinking I’m as violent as Uther and as bad as them all, and you’re right. But I’d never hurt you.” 

“No, no, Morgana. I would never blame you. I never thought that either.” 

“Don’t- don’t do that,” she says, face weary in a way she hasn’t ever seen on Morgana. “Just a dream, it’s just- my imagination. Gwen is afraid of me, and she’s married. But I’m going to end this.” 

“What?” 

“I know you hate bloodshed. And… I’m not stupid, I know that when they hurt you feel it, somehow. I know there’s probably no chance of fixing things with you, but… damn it all. I can’t risk harming you, even if you hate me. You would approve of this plan, I think. Merlin has been sneaking out to give me updates, and the two of us have come up with something, he’s on his way to-” 

\- 

She wakes to a bang as Sir Percival bursts through the door of the chamber. Arthur jumps awake. 

“What the hell-” 

"Sire, you'll want to see this," he pants. Arthur bolts upright and runs from the room. Gwen chase's behind, still in her nightgown, and they go to the balcony. She looks up and her eyes widen. 

Bread falls from the sky like rain. 

People stand about, holding out their bags and snatching the leaves from the ground. People are _eating,_ children dusting the crust on the ground to devour them in huge bites, their mothers weeping in joy. It's a miracle. 

Gwen marvels at the sky, and rejoices. Her people are fed. They're happy. She smiles and can’t stop smiling. 

Arthur is frozen where he stands, stone faced. 

"Sorcery," he mutters. "Someone is openly practicing sorcery." 

Percival clears his throat. "The reserves have mysteriously become full with harvest, sire." 

"Damn it all." 

"Arthur, the sorcerer saved our people!" 

"I want you all to search the lower town, do not stop until you find the sorcerer." 

“Sire-” 

“Enough,” he snarls, raising a hand. Gwen flinches back and a flicker of guilt crosses his face before it is replaced with frustration. “You will do as I command.” 

\- 

Seven people are burned in mere suspicion, but the harvest keeps full, more food arriving each night. Seven blisters adorn her side before they find the sorcerer. He is brought in with a bag over his face, but Gwen would know him anywhere. She chances a glance around, and on their faces finds that everyone knows. Everyone knows who this is, and now what he's done for them, and everyone knows what happens next. 

The court holds its breath, speaking the secret language of averted eyes, grieving a man who stands alive before them, who by all means is already dead. 

Lancelot shifts uncomfortably. "Sire, all due respect, but-" 

"But nothing," he snarls. "Bring the sorcerer to justice." 

"The man who ended a year long famine? Do you hear yourself?" Gwaine scoffs, crossing his arms. "No." 

"If you will not obey your King, then you are no knight of mine. Guards," he beckons. 

"Arthur, he's just being-" 

He slaps her across the face in full view of the court. Her ears ring and she sits down silently. 

She does not have to wonder what Merlin would do. For the man himself kneels before her, with his face blank, his eyes speaking volumes that only Gwen can hear. He does not scream as he is taken away. He does not apologize nor offer explanation. He only looks at Arthur with his eyes, like he's drinking from him one last time. Lovestruck. 

Gwen wonders if Arthur is doing the same, or if he has the same tired look he always wears these days. 

\- 

Merlin is burned on a Sunday. 

Everyone is there. The sky is ripe with rain. All business in Camelot has come to halt as the crowds gather in their somber hordes. Perhaps it is the poet in her, but Gwen thinks it fitting, that the same clouds that had dropped bread and harvest at Merlins behest now gather to see him go. 

Merlin, for his part, appears relaxed. Or perhaps resigned is a better word for it. That only lasts til the burning begins, and then the screaming starts. 

He burns, and the fire reflects in the eyes of the crowd like a beacon as fire licks up his clothing and snaps the ropes on his legs. 

A figure fights through the crowd toward the front, two guards following behind. Shoving himself from the throng of people, Gwaine falls to his knees before the pyre with an animal sound. He climbs the burning woodstack toward Merlin, but the guards catch him by the legs and drag him backward toward the dungeon. 

Arthur rests a hand on Gwen's arm as if to comfort her, and she closes her eyes concentrating hard to avoid gagging. She can still hear Merlins screams that go on and on, and smell the burning flesh and hear the fat popping and boiling and Arthur has his hand on her arm- 

Her eyes snap open as a murmur runs through the crowd. Someone has stepped into the fire. At first she thinks Gwaine has fought his way back to the pyre, but the figure stands in the flame unaffected. Ghostly pale hands remove a hood and Gwen's breath catches. 

Morgana. 

She unwraps the ropes and lifts the still screaming Merlin from the flames, resting his unrecognizable form to her chest like a babe. She turns, and meets Gwen's eye. Gwen wants to wave, or run to her, tell her everything that has happened. But Gwen knows the silent language of secrets, and she stands stone-faced as the tyrant touches her arm. 

Morgana faces the crowds. 

"This King Arthur is a tyrant who would burn the man that saves his people. He would leave commoners to starve, and punish your dear friend for feeding you. Tell me, is it magic you must fear, or your own King?" 

"Join me, any of you, and you can live free of his terror." She looks at Gwen. "Any of you." 

Gwen wants to go to her. But there are things here that she just does, she only wishes Morgana knew that they could talk now. She shakes her head, and Morgana's breath hitches, face carefully blank, and Gwen knows she's breaking her heart. Morgana pretends otherwise but she's fragile too and she's been all alone out there, thinking Gwen has left her for this… this despot who's filthy hand rests on her arm. _I'm only here for you!_ she wants to scream. She says nothing, again and again and again, and Morgana is gone. 

\- 

There is a murmuring in the people of Camelot, and it eats away at Gwen's insides. 

"What this night is long," she murmurs under her breath, mind wandering. She shivers in the whispering night breeze, the first signs of the coming fall. But Gwen still feels the lingering summer. Blood thrums through her temples. The hilt is damp with sweat in her shaking hand, but she holds firm. 

She won't need magic for this. 

Gwen climbs the steps one by one, and then two by two as her rage overtakes her. It's time. 

"You killed my _best friend._ " 

"He was my best friend too," says Arthur. "I am your husband. Gwen." 

She stalks forward across the stone. 

"I'm your King, you will obey me." He steps back. 

"I have no King," she says softly. "You made me this. Those people rioting at the gates, you _made_ them. And you will perish by the people that you made.” 

“I-I love you,” he says, eyes wild and confused. 

She lunges, dagger striking at his chest. He ducks and kicks her feet from beneath her, sending her sprawling across the floor. Arthur wrestles the dagger from her hands and Gwen struggles beneath him, looks around frantically for anything to help her. Excalibur lays beside the bed, tip pointed toward her where it's been knocked over in the scuffle. She reaches out, but it's too far. 

Arthur puts his full weight on her chest and Gwen grunts in agony as something cracks. She stretches her arm, muscles in burning agony, and closes her forefinger and thumb over the blades tip. she pulls it toward her, even as the blade bites into her hand smearing red across the edge. Arthur grips her hair and yanks her head up. 

"Traitor," he mutters. "I should have known. All of you, traitorous." 

The blood from her hands makes the blade slick, and she drops it with a clatter. She's failed. It's all for nothing, he will kill her tonight. Her head is hot and foggy and her eyes dart around for anything to save her. 

_Morgana, Merlin, I'm sorry,_ she thinks. She is sorry for all the townsfolk and the servants and everyone she will leave behind tonight, that she has failed to save. 

"Others will come," she says, voice dripping with the months of hatred she's let rot in her chest. 

She spits weakly, but it only drips down her chin like she's foaming at the mouth. His hand closes around her throat, and she uses her last moments to think, to think of the summertime, of the golden days before, all of them together with Morgana or Merlin or Arthur sitting with her in the fields picking flowers and sneezing with pollen- 

The hand leaves her throat abruptly. Arthur falls back, struck by an invisible force. Gwen's tired eyes move to the window, and there sits Morgana in her tatty black robes, filthy with dirt. She looks nothing like she used to. She is more beautiful than ever. 

Gwen takes in a raspy breath. She cannot speak. Her hands drip, hot with slicing pain, and she takes up the sword Excalibur by the hilt, metal shrill where it drags heavily against the floor. Arthur stands and turns to face the intruder. 

Gwens blood runs hot and passion burns through her like a fever. She gathers the last of her strength and swings, and the sword lodges deep in his neck. Coppery red sprays from the wound and he stumbles into the wall with a silent scream. Gwen yanks the sword free and swings again, aiming true, and Arthur's head falls from his shoulders to the floor. She swings again, and again, stabbing him through the heart and the ribs and arms as turmoil reigns her grip. 

“Gwen,” says a soft voice, “Your hands.” 

She jolts, remembering that there is another person in the room. She takes a deep breath, and doesn’t look at Morgana. The flame in her quiets to a dull thrumming in her blood and she drops the sword. 

She picks up the tyrant's head in shaking hands. The man who had destroyed his lands. The head of her dear friend Arthur who was young, who she once loved as one of her closest friends, her dear friend Arthur who picked flowers in the fields and wanted to please his father. Is this how he felt when he burned Merlin? How did he stand it? She stands in shock, heavy breathing clogging her lungs and she falls to her knees. 

Gwen holds it to her chest and weeps, stroking the hair. She is never going to see him again, she thinks, with both horror and sweeping, overwhelming relief. It’s over. 

Morgana steps down from the window and into the wrecked room. Gwen doesnt look up. She is a mess, dress stained with blood and her throat bruised and her hands sliced to ribbons. She is not the same Gwen Morgana once knew, and Morgana is well within rights to hate her now for siding with Arthur for so long, for letting him hurt so many people, for being weak for years and years. 

But this is the moment she has worked for, and no matter what happens now, it is done. Her body feels new, a weight removed as if a cancer has been cut from her body. Nothing can take this away from her. 

Morgana holds out a hand, and it's as pale and big as the moon, but it's different than she remembers. Calloused, covered in little scars, the middle finger warped as if it had been broken. Gwen places her small, soft hand atop it, smearing it with blood. It's tiny in comparison. She feels terribly small. 

"You're freezing," she says stupidly. Morgana's mouth twitches. 

"You always used to say that." Morgana turns her hand over to examine it. "Let's get you to Gaius." 

Gwen shakes her head, gesturing to her sullied clothing. "Everyone will know." 

"We were going to siege tonight. No one in Camelot would prosecute you for what you've done. They would call it heroic." 

"I don't feel heroic," she says, unable to stop looking at Arthur's head, his glazed eyes looking at nothing. Morgana steps into her line of sight, blocking her view. Gwen floats above herself as Morgana guides her down the hall. This must be just another dream. Any moment now, she will wake and be in bed with Arthur. 

Gwen bursts into tears. She hates that she waited until now to do this, and she hates that she did it at all. Shes managed to fuck it up all the way- shes a traitor to the crown, and a traitor to Morgana, all at once. And now that Arthur is gone no one will ever want her again. Not this Gwen, who is not gentle or meek or kind, with blood on her hands and neck and face and- 

Gwen vaguely registers that she is on the floor now, and is being rocked. Her gut churns from her own fear and the fear of those outside mingled and she vomits down Morgana's front, apologizing again and again. Morgana shushed her, and she's being so nice, so _nice_ about this. 

"Why did you come?" she manages. 

“We were going to attack tonight, I told you-” 

“To see me.” 

Morgana shifts guiltily. "I wasn't going to come inside, I was just going to check on you. I wanted one last look. There are enough sympathizers here that they could make without me, if... something went wrong." 

"If I had you arrested." She sighs. 

"It's alright." 

"It's not. I'm sorry I didn't find a way to speak with you all this time, I know you must hate me now, and that's… fine," her voice cracks. "I know this makes up for nothing." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"I let you go all by yourself, and I- stayed here. Even when you came back, I stayed. I was too weak to do it, I could have killed him all this time, but I was afraid and I don't break rules, I never did," she's babbling now and she cant stop. "And in the end was I didnt even do it for the people, it was for- for you, and because he killed Merlin and made me watch and I couldn't wait any more-" 

“Shhh,” she takes Gwen's hand and wraps it around her shoulder, hoisting her up. “No. Gwen, that’s not true.” 

“I- I couldn't even do it for the right reasons, I’m a coward and now I’m a killer. ” 

Gwen needs to lay it out, all her weaknesses. If Morgana is to stay this time, she needs to know them, that Gwen can be taken down if she ever becomes like he was 

"Gwen, I have killed people to get here. Bad people. I am proud of you. When I came in and he was _choking_ you, I- I would have killed him myself." 

Gwen wishes she had. She doesn't want this blood. But somewhere inside her she knows it had to be her hand on the hilt. 

Morgana half- carries her to Gaius’ chambers and knocks on the door for a full minute before he answers in his night clothes, face going pale at the sight of them. Gwen tenses, ready for him to call for guards. 

“It’s done,” says Morgana, and his face relaxes. He invites them in and Morgana helps her remove her shirt so he can check her over. 

It's over now, she tells herself. one day she may even believe it. 

\- 

Gwen calls a gathering in the morning. 

She holds the head over the railing. 

"The tyrant is dead," she shouts, voice raw and scraped. The blood congealing on her dress has soaked in and soured, and her frayed hair and bruised neck stand out starkly, she's certain. The bandages on her hands are stained red. It isn't professional nor queenly. Gwen does not give a fuck. Not now. She is a king-killer, and she looks it. She throws the head into the crowd, and awaits her sentence. 

From the distance, she hears a shout of joy. And then another, and cheers rise from the people, growing louder and louder. Morgana approaches from behind and comes to stand at her side. Excalibur rests on her hands and she holds it out, an offering. Gwen takes it and holds it high. 

The Knights kneel, and the people follow. Morgana goes to kneel at her feet and she shakes her head, pulling her back up. 

"Stand up. Be beside me." She turns to the crowd. "Stand, all of you. I will not have my people grovel. Stand on your feet." 

Morgana's hand sits in hers, the magic crackling excitedly against her fingers. She takes Morgana's hand and guilds it to the hilt. They are together in this, at last, Gwen and Morgana and their people standing tall on their feet under the blazing sun. 

It is at this moment Gwen becomes their Queen. 

\- 

Gwen and Morgana spend the next weeks in exhaustion, uncovering corrupt members of the court and removing them, settling disputes and changing laws and restoring land. 

Magic returns, slowly and tentatively. People are slow to believe it, but it’s difficult to deny when Queen Morgana makes butterflies for a little child and Queen Guinevere only smiles adoringly. 

Gwen's stomach is warm all the time, now, her limbs satisfied as her people. The bruises have faded. 

There are times that it's not enough. 

She hides in cupboards, the darkness and quiet the only remedy for her crushing grief. Morgana coaxes her out and carries her to the bedroom. 

"Its my fault." 

"No, it isn't," she rocks her gently. "Everything is fine now." 

It doesn't feel fine. She shouldn't feel fine. 

Clinging at night they talk of what has happened when they missed each other. The bits that they can speak of without choking. And often they lament over the days that haven passed, the easy times long ago. Still, day by day she learns to live in the present, the days that lay before them. 

Morgana doesn't put hands near her face or her throat, and never raises her voice at Gwen. Gwen always sips drinks before passing them to Morgana, because otherwise Morgana drinks nothing at all. They adapt. Life goes on. 

\- 

“What poetry have we for tonight?” Morgana asks, slipping off her shoes and beginning to undress. Gwen hums. 

“We ought to go over those tax documents first. Weren’t you saying the wheat production improved?” 

”Yes, I inquired about it when we were dealing with the fallout of the bandits.” They had been stealing grain, and Gwen had led a patrol to capture the culprits. 

Morgana traces her shoulder, the spot where she had incurred a cut from the encounter. “You were quite dashing that day.” 

“Stop,” she giggles. “The knights were just as responsible-” 

“My brave Queen,” Morgana interrupts, trailing kisses down her side. “Capturing the bandits and saving the townsfolk-” 

“-it was really nothing, we outnumbered them by-” 

“charging in to the rescue! They never stood a chance, not against _you,_ ” Morgana grins up at her and she falters, unable to protest. Her face has gone soft with adoration, and her eyes hard with a loyalty so great Gwen can feel it through her chest. She never feels worthy of the praises Morgana lavishes on her, or the kisses to her scars, the evidence of a few good deeds after a lifetime of cowardice. She’s trying to make up for it all. 

But in moments like this, when Morgana is looking at her like _this,_ , she feels… Perhaps she is as brave as Morgana believes. 

Gwens face is hot and she smiles back. “Alright, I suppose I was a little dashing. Now lets go over these damned documents.” 

\- 

Gwen gazes into space, a nervous wreck as she prepares for her second wedding day. 

Her people have all come out, and her eyes are wet again. She glances to Morgana, who is smiling at her and in that moment it does not matter that her hands shake or that she cannot have hands near her throat. She is Camelot, and all the lands beyond. 

She is their ruler, and she is their friend, and Albion is united. 

Once and for all the days to come.

**Author's Note:**

> I really dont know what this is. Theres a lot going on. It's been in my drafts forever and I'm not totally happy with it, but I don't think I'll ever finish it as much as I want. so here it is hope u like it xoxo


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